Catch a Falling Star
by odairrieres
Summary: One summer night, a five-year-old Dean Winchester escapes from home to play with the fireflies. Instead, he ends up spotting a shooting star and wishing it down from the sky.


Past the small hands clinging to the windowpane longingly, there was a night sky alight with dancing fireflies. They grazed past Mary Winchester's beloved flowerbed and a few dared to soar higher to be amongst the stars. It was a spectacle that happened every summer, the bugs drawn like moths to the light that was the Winchester household. Some nights, John Winchester would scoop up his son from his post at the window and take him outside for an hour or two before bedtime. Some nights, like this one, the moon had reserved the sky just for the stars and fireflies. There wasn't a cloud in sight and the grass below Dean's bedroom window was a bright sea of light. And, so much like a sailor, Dean wanted desperately to reach that sea.

But some nights, like this one, John and Mary were fighting and their son was tucked away in his room.

He sat there on the wrong side of the glass for some time, battling hard against the droop of his eyelids and the beacon that was his bed. It was almost the end of summertime and soon kindergarten would rise before him and put him to bed far before the fireflies came out to play. He had to soak up as much of their light as he could before then. And if he had to wait all night for the house to grow silent before he could make his great escape, then so be it.

Luck was with the Winchester boy tonight and soon the hushed but heated voices from downstairs would dwindle down. One pair of dainty feet would make their way upstairs, would disappear behind a click of a closing door, and would leave him free to dash downstairs in his pajamas.

On tiptoes, the little boy snuck past the mountainous body that lay in sleep on the couch and into the kitchen where a door called to him. Quickly and quietly, he opened it just enough for himself to slip through. The moment the door opened, there was the tantalizing smell of dewy grass and adventure. It was too much for his little heart to take and he sprang forth from the back porch and greeted the grass with bare feet.

His body stretched itself beyond its own height as his eager arms reached up to catch the flying stars. Or so they appeared to be against the backdrop of sky, the fireflies blending in so seamlessly with the stars. It was for him, a night-lit party to bring a smile to a young boy's face that deserved as many smiles as he could muster without hurting his freckled cheeks.

But sleep was a sneaky mistress and it was creeping over him with each jump and sprint he put his body up to at such a late hour. Soon, he longed for his bed, for someone to come outside and pick him up and tuck him in. But, instead, he adopted the grass as a mattress and laid down.

Dean stared up at the rest of his little friends as they moved with energy he craved. And the stars he craved, too, because they were so high up and infinitely out of reach. His wild mind imagined that if he could simply grow up faster, and be like his father, then he could simply command the stars to fall for him. And then, he would pick them up with his father's stern but gentle hands and keep them all for himself.

It was as he was dreaming with eyes open that he caught the beginning of his dream come true.

There was a stream of light, quick and desperate as it skirted across the sky. For a moment, Dean's sleepy head thought it was just another firefly but it was too fast, too blue. With renewed energy, Dean scrambled to get to his feet in time. This was a second chance to do right where he had done wrong before.

"Quick, Dean, the star is running away. You have to catch it and make a wish," his father had whispered into Dean's ear, nudging the little boy's stunned shoulders until Dean's arms finally shot up and clasped in the general direction of the star. He'd held his hands together so tight that he was certain he'd caught the escapist and so he shut his eyes just as tightly and made his wish.

"Now let it go," his father had urged. "So that the shooting star can go and fetch your wish."

But Dean had been too greedy. He had a star in his hands, who could wish for anything better? So he shoved those clutched hands in his pocket, confident the star would be there when he went to bed, only to check and see that the star had run away again. This time, he would do as his father said.

His hands came together with a slap, and between them there was the buzzing energy of a restless star. Arms still stretched high into the sky, Dean shut his eyes and wished a clever little wish.

"I wish for a star."

And as his hands fell away from one another, there was a flash of bright white that burned against his eyelids. He felt the star rush past him. Almost instantaneously, there was a cascade of crashes like glass plates falling to the kitchen floor. Only, it was loud enough to make Dean jump and open his eyes in surprise. When he looked in the general direction of where the star had gone, he saw the landing site of his wish.

He really should have clarified how he wanted it delivered.

The, thankfully, vacant house next door had a star-shaped hole in its shingled roof and pieces of clay tumbling down into the gap.

Afraid his star was broken by the fall, Dean ran as fast as his small legs could manage. To the wooden fence he sprinted and, there, there was a hole he had accidentally made with a baseball bat when his father was trying to teach him how to play. It was a well-kept secret between he and John, a convenient toy box hiding it from a mother's prying eyes. And now, it was a perfect doorway.

He wiggled through to the other side and made his way up the back porch steps. Through the door, which was always open for when Dean caught whiff of freshly made pie, and past the empty kitchen he went. In the living room, where once there was a comfortable couch Dean would sit on between the old couple who had watched him every now and again before they passed away, there was rubble.

There was rubble and something else, he was sure of it. Dean climbed up the bits and pieces and chunks of roof until he got to the top and looked down. Past the junk that had come down after his fallen star, he saw something that shone white in the night light that pooled in. So, he hurried to push away the barrier between him and his prize, throwing aside the little pieces he could pick up and pulling and pulling until other bigger pieces would tumble away. It wasn't going so well until something below began to move upwards.

Through the gaps between the wood and clay, Dean met another pair of eyes. Bright and bluer than the sky at night or day, they stunned the little boy and he stood frozen for the while it took for the pieces between them to silently and swiftly move away, as if a pair of unseen and large hands had come to help them along.

Down below, there was a small boy with black, debris-filled hair attached to those blue eyes. And he looked just as astonished to see Dean as Dean was to see him.

"You're my star," Dean said in awe, a question and claim all at the same time. Wordlessly, he thanked the other star for fetching him such an amazing wish.

His star looked lost for a moment, its wide eyes shrinking into a curious squint as it studied the smiling boy above. But the confusion didn't last for long and the star shown brighter with the smile it copied off the boy.

Without another word, for Dean imagined the star could not speak, his hands shot down to help his star from the wreckage. And it was just in the nick of time, too. Just as the star's wobbly feet managed to stand beside Dean, there was a sound at the front door and flashlights beamed through the glass to highlight the living room.

Dean's hand clutching tightly around his star's, the two of them ran from the crime scene with a mischievous sprint to their steps (and a stumble, for the star was no good at running). Just as the front door clicked open, and the sound of John Winchester and a few others talking entered the house, the two bandits were slipping through the back door and racing to sanctuary.

They found it in the shape of a low-hanging tree with lush leaves that welcomed them wholeheartedly. Though the star was not as agile as Dean, who had climbed this tree many a time when the old couple took naps, it tried its hardest to keep up. And, with a little help from Dean to his star, the two of them managed to hide away amongst the branches.

Once the lights and noises inside the house died down after a few minutes of bewildered exclamations, Dean turned to his star, which was gazing at him adamantly.

"The coast is clear," he announced to his star, a grin spreading like wildfire across Dean's face.

Blue eyes stared back at him, and Dean was remembering himself and the fact that stars couldn't talk just as a mouth opened to prove him wrong. "What coast?"

Dean's eyes widened and his grin dropped with an audible pop. "You can talk?" His question came out all girly and shrill in comparison to the soothing voice his star had.

"Of course I can," it replied with an amused smile. To which, Dean gawked even further. He forgot himself for a moment and raised his hands in the air, and the star's hand had to jut out to keep Dean from falling out of the tree. Dean was too preoccupied to notice or care.

"Why didn' ya say so!"

"I just did," the star said, the squint of his eyes telling Dean it was confused.

"Why didn' ya say so, sooner," Dean corrected himself, verbally and physically. His hands went back to the branch for support. The star's hand hesitantly returned to its side, which was arched in a slouch.

"I didn't know. I never know what to say so I don't say anything at all."

The ageless sadness in the star's voice unnerved Dean and the fierce protectiveness that stirred inside his belly told him to apologize or fear his own consequences.

"I'm sorry," he backpedaled and put a comforting hand on the star's slumped shoulder, "I didn't mean to make you sad."

Gradually, the shoulder righted itself along with the rest of the star's body. The downward glance that had been watching two pairs of dangling legs looked back at Dean. "That's okay. I know you didn't."

And the smile the star gave was contagious, passing onto Dean along with a dose of happiness. And, for a small while, the star and his boy stared at each other in silent companionship.

That was, until a voice in Dean's head reminded him that he had a few questions.

"Why are stars like little boys?" He blurted out to his star's surprise.

"Stars aren't-" It paused, taking in Dean's incredulous look. But promptly, those blue eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh, because I'm a star and I look like a boy?"

Dean's nod prompted the star to go on.

"Well," it started, pursing its lips for a moment as it peered down at its toes for an answer. "Stars don't look like boys. At first," he added when Dean's face scrunched up. "We change when we come here."

"Why?"

The star wasn't expecting a follow-up question, to say the least, but the eager look in Dean's eyes lured an answer out of him. "Because it's hard for you to look at us. When you look at the sun, it hurts your eyes after a while. And the sun is a star, but it's far away so it would really hurt if it was up close. Your eyes would go like this," and the star let go of the tree for a moment to make an exploding motion by his bulging eyes.

"Woah," was the only reply Dean could muster. "That sucks."

The star shrugged. "Yeah. So, if we want to come here, we have to change into humans. I don't even think I'm a star anymore."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed and he studied the little frown on his star's face. He didn't like it much when it frowned. The hand he had rested on his star's shoulder shifted, pulled and hugged the star closer.

"You're a star. I wished for a star, so I have to get a star," he stated confidently. Diligently, Dean watched as his friend's frown disappeared. There was still something about how dark its eyes had gotten, like it'd lost a bit of its starlight.

"I guess. Why did you thi-How did you know I was your star?"

A victorious smirk sprang up on Dean's face. "Well, duh it was you. 'Cause, see, I caught a star that was running away and wished. But this time I did it right, like my daddy told me, and I let it go. And then it left to get my wish and give it to me. And then there was a crash, and I knew."

When he finished, he looked expectantly at his star, which tried its best to look impressed. Almost as hard as Dean was trying not to look tired.

But sleep hung above him, a comfortable blanket ready to tuck him and his star in bed. And it was then that he had a brilliant idea, almost as brilliant as the one that had gotten him a star.

"Hey, you sleepy? I'm sleepy and if we scoot up to the trunk, we can sleep here," Dean gushed excitedly. He'd never slept in this tree before, had never had the opportunity. But he loved the feel of air beneath his feet and the sky pressed against his cheeks.

"But we'll fall," the star argued, peering down at the ground with slight disdain. "Can't we sleep down there, or inside?"

Dean wasn't going to be brought down by that kind of negativity. "No way, trees are too cool to leave. You don't even know how to get down, do you?" He challenged and the look he received told him he'd won but not without causing some discomfort. So he squeezed the star close again for reassurance before helping it slide down to the wider and thicker portion of the tree branch.

Pressed against two sturdy pieces of an old and nurturing tree, the star seemed a bit more at ease.

"Don't worry. I won't let you fall," Dean promised as he settled in at his star's side, nestling there before coiling a protective arm around it.

Unseen by the boy whose eyes were slowly drifting away and into sleep, the star warmed and smiled up at him. "I know you won't," it murmured quietly.

"Good," came the muffled reply as Dean's head sunk down and rested on the fluffy pillow that was his star's hair. "Goodnight, star."

"Castiel."

"Hmm?" There was a distant giggle.

"My name, it's Castiel."

"Mm, goodnight, Cas-" But sleep finally cloaked him before he could finish. Besides, what kind of a name was Castiel?

* * *

When Dean awoke the following morning, it was to hollowness. He felt a breeze at his side where warmth had been just before he'd closed his eyes. In a frenzied fright, he jolted awake and was horrified by how alone he was amid the leaves. His star was gone, and he feared the worst: that it had run away as stars sometimes did.

"Cas?" He called out as he began to fumble his way back down the tree. It was about halfway down the tree that he heard subdued voices and only one he cared enough to listen to.

"No, I didn't tell him… no, I don't want to… Naomi, no. Please?"

With a thud, Dean fell the rest of the way down from not paying enough attention to his footing. Castiel and an upset woman turned to look at the now extremely embarrassed Dean as he tried to stand up without flinching or rubbing his pained bottom.

"I am assuming this is Dean," the woman said as calmly as she could before turning her stern eye back to Castiel.

That sorrow was back again, consuming his star's features and leaving Dean just as upset if not more so. Who was this old lady to make Cas sad?

"You know what you have to do, Castiel," her voice irritated Dean to no end even though it was as gentle as a mother's. Before Cas could say anything against her, she put a hand up. "You made this mess, now clean it up and come home. You know you don't belong here."

She spared Dean one last, exasperated look before suddenly disappearing. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, wondered if it was a magic trick. "Was that a star?"

Castiel was still looking at the place the lady had stood, the star's eyes growing a darker and darker blue by the second. When it looked to Dean, the excitement that had been bubbling in the boy's chest from seeing another star completely evaporated and left him feeling hollow again.

"Yes, it was. Dean, I have to go back."

Dean bit his lip, a little too hard. "But why?" He moved closer to his star, thinking that maybe, if he was quick enough, he could grab Castiel and run. If he held on tightly enough, the star wouldn't be able to escape. But, then again, two stars had already escaped him. And one of them had vanished right before his eyes.

Castiel was struggling to find words to make Dean understand. "Dean, when you caught that star, you caught me."

"No, I didn't," Dean shot out indignantly.

"Yes, you did. I was running away and you grabbed me from the sky and you didn't let me go fast enough. So, I fell. I didn't think it was a problem because I was okay with it, but it breaks the rules."

Dean shook his head sharply, his chest tightening painfully. Cas was his star, his. He'd wished and it had been granted. This wasn't the deal.

"Who cares!" He huffed. "So what! I caught you. Finders, keepers."

"Dean, you can't do that. I have to go home, now," Castiel was practically pleading with Dean to be okay with it.

The boy stomped his foot, hard on the ground. As if that were supposed to work on a star. It barely worked on his parents. "No!"

"Dean," now Castiel was pleading. His star looked so sad. Was it Dean who was doing this? He saw how much of his star's shine was gone and wondered if Castiel really did want to go home. And he remembered his dad telling him he had to let the star go or else it wouldn't work. And he remembered how the last time he tried to keep it all to himself, it ran off.

"Dean," Castiel called again and Dean hesitantly looked up from his heaving chest. "Dean, if you let me go, I can still grant your wish. I'll bring you a star, one you can really keep this time. Okay?"

His little body shook now and Castiel shimmered from a combination of the shaking, of the sunlight poking out from behind Cas, and of Dean's teary vision. For a moment, he imagined this was how Castiel looked like as a star.

"But I want you," he whined, but he was losing the fight.

"I'm sorry, Dean." And if a star could truly be sorry, Castiel was burdened by the sensation. The star was looking down and, as Dean blinked, it became clear that Castiel was holding a twinkling bottle of starlight.

"Will that make you shine again?" Dean hesitantly asked. Castiel smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes nor did it sparkle.

"Yes, yes it will make me shine again. I'll turn back into a real star and I'll have to leave so I don't hurt you."

"That sucks," Dean sniffled, again the only reply he could muster. Castiel's smile widened just enough to make Dean smile back.

"I know, Dean."

The last selfish thing Dean could think of to do in the silence that followed was to yank Castiel towards him and into a fierce hug he wished could hold his star forever. He felt the cold of a bottle pressed against his back, followed by the warmth of arms.

He squeezed his eyes shut and repeated, to himself, what his father had said.

"Quick, Dean, the star is running away. You have to catch it and make a wish."

He clung tighter to Castiel and wished, wished, wished, for his star to come back to him.

"Now let it go."

And he did, reluctantly so. His hands slipped away, his eyes squeezed shut so that he wouldn't have to watch it go. And he heard the "pop" of a bottle as it opened and then there was a light so bright and warm that it imprinted itself on his eyelids. It left him seeing stars but, when he opened his eyes, the one star he wanted to see he didn't.

But he swore he could feel it, like the flutter of fireflies all around him. Dean could feel the warm touch of light against his forehead and he thought that maybe-

When he awoke, it was to the sound of his mother and father calling his name frantically from the back porch of his home. When he stumbled his way back into his own yard and his father shook him, demanding to know where he'd gone, he didn't know. He just felt a strange hollowness that stayed with him for a very long time and a fear of heights no one could understand.

* * *

"Dean, look! A shooting star." Sammy nudged a disgruntled Dean from whatever shambles of a nap he'd managed to achieve. They were lying atop the Impala, soaking up some moonlight after being unable to pay for a motel room that night. It didn't really matter to Dean whether or not they had a room, because either way he wasn't getting a wink of sleep.

He looked up at the sky and spotted the tail of that runaway star Sam was so keen about. And when he glanced over at Sam, his brother had his hands clasped together like a fool.

"What the heck are you doing, dude?" Dean groaned, embarrassed to be seen with this kid.

"I'm doing what you told me to do."

"Dumb yourself down?"

Sam opened his eyes and glared at Dean before releasing his hands. "No, I'm making a wish."

"So you are dumbing yourself down," Dean huffed, wiggling around until he was comfortable again. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep. But they both knew sleep was not on Dean's schedule.

"Dean, come on. It couldn't hurt. You do it."

"I don't believe in that crap."

"You'll believe in demons, ghosts, and everything that bumps in the night but not magic?"

"Oh, I believe in magic. Witches, and I don't like what they have to offer."

"Dean," there was an urgent nudge at his side. He opened his eyes and Sam looked desperate. "Dean, please. For me, if not for you?"

The man sighed, rolled his eyes, made a big show about pixie dust and happy thoughts and the fact that miracles don't exist. But in the end, he indulged his little brother, if only for the fact that Dean secretly wanted to wish upon a star. And he did, he shut his eyes, did the whole grabby thing, and wished hard to have his ass saved from hell. And then he let the star go, let it go off and fetch his wish.

And even though it took a very long time, that star came back.


End file.
